


Free-Range Flirting

by endingthemes



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles isn't really a Douchebag, Fluff, Grocery Store, M/M, Smitten Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endingthemes/pseuds/endingthemes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik encounters a douchebag at the grocery store. An extremely attractive douchebag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free-Range Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from [this post](http://endingthemes.tumblr.com/post/99063563611/tommysheperds-i-hear-someone-wanted-some) on tumblr.

Early Saturday morning is the best time to go grocery shopping. By eleven, the crowds arrive, making the aisles difficult to negotiate and the checkout lines outrageous. At 9:30 though, the store is nearly empty, just Erik leaning his elbows heavily on his cart as he navigates and a few employees stocking shelves.

Erik turns down the next aisle and barely avoids hitting a cart that has been left abandoned, nearly blocking the entire aisle. He pushes down his surge of annoyance, but surely it’s not that hard to put the cart to the right or the left, and some asshole has simply left theirs sitting right in the middle. Erik sighs and moves the cart out of the way, the screeching of the wheels grating further on his nerves, and he notes that the cart is full of organic, gluten-free, cage-free, and non-GMO items. He doesn’t even know the owner of this cart, but he already hates them.

He picks a few things and moves on to the next aisle. There’s a man there, hands on his hips as he examines the shelves of cookies before him with intense scrutiny. Judging by the lack of other shoppers, this must be douchebag cart man.

Erik had expected some rich snob or perhaps a hipster-type, but the douchebag is dressed badly in an ill-fitting cardigan that he suspects would be uncool even in a nursing home. As Erik starts down the aisle, the man seems to finally decide on something and goes up on tiptoe to reach for a box on the top shelf. Erik huffs out a small laugh as he watches the shorty strain to reach, his fingertips barely brushing the desired box and his slacks pulling tight around his rather fantastic ass, which is no laughing matter. He unabashedly checks him out for a moment before the man spots him, head turning as he continues to reach.

“Oh,” the man says, face coloring, “hello.” The pale curve of his neck is mildly distracting. He drops back to his flat feet, and his blush deepens, hand coming up to rub at his neck.

“Hey,” Erik answers noncommittally, ending his ogling, and moves to push his cart past the maybe not so rich but definitely attractive douchebag.

The man’s brow furrows. “Douchebag?”

Shit. Did he really just say that out loud? He hasn’t been sleeping well these past few weeks with his huge project at work, but he’s usually much more careful than this. If he really wanted to insult this guy he would have thought of something much more creative, something like trend-hopping tree-humping 100% biodegradable fashion disaster.

The man bursts out laughing, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “You got that all from a cart and my cardigan?”

And oh. Erik definitely didn’t say that out loud, so-

“Telepath,” the man says, “and you’re thinking quite loudly, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Erik wants to snap back but knows it’s childish and holds his tongue. He’s obviously too late though because the man laughs again and Erik realizes he can’t hold his _mind_.

But he’s having trouble maintaining his anger because the man looks absolutely gorgeous when he laughs, and Erik can’t tear his eyes away from red lips and ridiculous blue eyes and infinitely tuggable tousled hair.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, still smiling, “could you help me reach these?” He motions toward the cookies he had been pursuing earlier.

Erik pushes his cart safely to the side - out of the way, he thinks pointedly - and walks up behind the attractive douchebag.

“Charles,” the man says, voice laced with amusement, “my name is Charles, not douchebag. And I want those cookies, right there.” He points to a box of gluten-free, dairy-free cookies and Erik sighs. “They’re good,” Charles insists and even though he’s in Erik’s way, he doesn’t step aside. Erik knows this game, so he shrugs, and moves in close, pressing himself firmly along Charles’ back and reaching over his shoulder, arm brushing his hair. Charles’ head fits neatly beneath his chin and he smells of tea, a bitter but sweet soft scent, and Erik breathes him in deeply as he grabs the cookies. He draws back only slightly, a bare sliver of space between them and Charles turns around, brushing a hand across Erik’s stomach as he does, tipping his chin back so their eyes meet.

“Thanks,” he breathes into the heated air between them, tongue darting out to move along his lower lip, and Erik’s eyes follow helplessly, “for the cookies.” He grabs the box from Erik’s nearly limp hand and steps away, letting cooler air rush back between them. He smirks and walks away, turning at the end of the aisle while Erik watches mutely, heart pounding and mind blank.

Erik finishes his shopping on autopilot, pants feeling uncomfortably tight as red lips plague his thoughts. He’s at the checkout when he spots Charles three lanes over, helping to bag his own groceries into colorful eco-bags.

 _I’m single_ , Erik thinks desperately at Charles with as much energy as he can muster, knowing this might be his last chance. _Very single_. He has no idea how this works, but Charles’ head snaps up and his eyes meet Erik’s, and a smile slides across his face, bright and beautiful.

 _Fuck_ , Erik thinks frantically, _did that actually just work_? Charles says something to the cashier still scanning his groceries before making his way over.

“Can I see your phone?” he asks. Erik’s cashier is watching with a smirk, but Erik doesn’t care, unlocking his phone before he hands it over wordlessly. Charles types his number in quickly and saves it before he shamelessly tucks the phone back into Erik’s pocket, hand grazing Erik’s hip as he pulls away, and Erik’s face heats spectacularly.

“See you soon,” he says and walks away, hips swaying, leaving Erik speechless for the second time.

*

A week later, he meets Charles in the park, and they grab coffee before settling on a bench. Charles pulls a baggy of cookies from his messenger bag and smiles sweetly.

“Gluten-free and dairy-free,” he explains, before he feeds one to Erik, his thumb brushing Erik’s lower lip.

They taste horrible, closer to sugar-coated cardboard than a cookie, but Charles is looking at Erik with big hopeful eyes, so he holds back his grimace and simply says, “Delicious.”

There’s no point in lying to a telepath, of course. Charles looks thoroughly amused and takes a bite for himself. He narrows his eyes at the cookie as he chews, lips pursing slightly.

“These are horrible,” he says, and they share a glance before dissolving into laughter, and Erik can’t stop the warmth that is slowing building in his chest. “I’m sorry for these, my friend,” Charles manages, face still flushed charmingly as the laughter fades. “But I do make absolutely sinful gluten-free, dairy-free brownies.”

Erik barely restrains his groan.

“If you’d like to come to my place and try them,” Charles continues, the amusement on his face replaced by unabashed heat.

“Oh,” Erik says, somewhat dumbly, and lies again, “I love brownies.”

“Great.” Charles pulls Erik up from the bench, not calling him out this time either. “I’m sure if they aren’t to your liking, I can find something else for you to eat.”

Erik goes home with Charles and is surprised to find that the brownies aren’t that bad after all. Less surprising, however, is that he finds that Charles tastes much, much better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [cachinnation](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cachinnation/pseuds/cachinnation) for her insults and support!


End file.
